


The Adventures of Mindy Park, Space Paparazzi

by filigree (figureinthecarpet)



Series: The perils of everybody [1]
Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - Andy Weir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4927300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figureinthecarpet/pseuds/filigree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corporate wommonhood in spaaaaaaace!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The actress who played her on screen was blonde and emphatically not Korean. 

Her parents wept in the theater. Some Asian-American interest group tried to start a boycott. Web journalism almost cared before predictably getting distracted with clickbait about "12 Ways to Dress Like a Government Employee", pitting movie screencaps against NASA employee file photos.

Mindy had been warned while the movie was in production, but then Ares 5 had a scare with a MAV engine test on Sol 6 and the rest of SatCon mainlined coffee for the rest of that mission. The sugar crash afterwards took out everything nonessential except the memory of talking trash about Moreno's mole sauces to some visiting physicist from JPL . 

She did update her calendar, though, and remembered to fire several kicked puppy look at the director when she was introduced to him before the NASA promotional junket for the stupid movie. He didn't even try to look sheepish.


	2. Chapter 2

Black and bronze plaid shirt, check.

Uncomfortable skinny jeans, check.

Clear plastic rimmed glasses, check. 

Silicone padding to stick stupid glasses to nose at eye level for work, check.

Employee badge with doctored picture, check.

Blonde wig with dark roots that she painted in herself, check check check.

Total cost for costume: $35.65 (she got a really good deal on those mail order prescription glasses)

The look on Venkat Kapoor's face when he realized that she had dressed up as her movie self for Halloween: Priceless.


	3. Chapter 3

Brendan Hutch (as himself): Isn't that my shirt?

Her office mates at SatCon (dressed up like her-her and not movie-her): So are we Snow White and a Subset of Dwarves, or are we NASA Oompah-Loompahs? 

Venkat Kapoor (as himself, snore): ...I need the weather forecast for the backup landing site...?

Mark Watney (as Captain Blond Beard, Space Pirate): No, I am Spartacus!

Mindy Park (as movie-her but as herself. It's complicated, okay.): Don't you ever get tired of this costume? It's either this or fake novelty boobs every year. Did you leave your creative-fu on you-know-what?

Mark Watney: Do you actually keep track?

Mindy Park: Once a space pap, always a space pap, Cap'n.

Mark Watney: Annie won't let me have any fun because I'm apparently still newsworthy.

Annie Montrose (as herself, though slightly more incredulous than usual): You've got to be fucking kidding me.

Mindy Park: Oh my god, why are you so cool? 

Mark Watney: ...

Annie Montrose: ...

Mindy Park: Wait, did I say that? Did you hear me say that out loud?!

Mark Watney: Got a meeting, got to go!

Annie Montrose (as herself, though more murderous than usual): Has anyone outside seen you yet? Did anyone take pictures?!

Mindy Park: ...yeah, my friend in Propulsion took one on her phone.

Email from Lolo Walters in Propulsion (paraphrased): Um, that picture of you. My post went viral.

Mindy Park: It's only been four hours!

Annie Montrose: (censored)

Voicemail: You have some number of messages that I can't keep up with anymore. Goodbye cruel world.

CNN: Sources have confirmed that the viral picture of the Asian woman dressed as Mindy Park from this summer's hit movie _The Martian_ is, in fact, the real Mindy Park, currently a NASA employee at Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas. Ms. Park is most famous for discovering astronaut Mark Watney's lifesigns after the Ares 3 disaster. She has not responded to our request for comments at this time.

Mom: Mindy-ah, halmeoni just saw you on Korean television. Did you lose another astronaut?

Mindy Park: (gulp)


	4. Chapter 4

swivelchair has logged on!

swivelchair (19:39:31): why are you still at work?

space_pap (19:40:26): Did you know that people are writing slash RPF for Mark and Chris Beck? I found some today and I'm wondering if I should tell him. On the one hand, he'd cringe so hard (dude blushes like a firetruck), but on the other hand.........nrgh. :\

swivelchair (19:43:07): I may have understood some of those words. are you still at work?

space_pap (19:43:55): am I supposed to answer if you as enough times?

space_pap (19:44:10): Ask! Ask enough times! 

swivelchair (19:44:30): yeah also I want my shirt back.

space_pap (19:45:00): So I had this theory about how they stopped talking about Riker and promotions after Season 3. They really let the whole "oh hey my flagship captain was just assimilated by the Borg" thing slide, and Picard just gets to swan around and be his usual awesome without repercussions or therapy (until that whole plot device in the DS9 pilot)

space_pap (19:46:31): so I'm thinking that there's this whole secret deal in which Riker volunteers or gets stuck as XO to make sure that Picard doesn't do anything crazy or Borgified. Ooh, Section 31 could be a great candidate, behind the scene deal-making and stuff. It's a terrible plot device, but once it's in canon I'm not ignoring it.

space_pap (19:46:49): probaion in space! Everything's made plausible and Riker is made awesome behind the scenes. 

space_pap (19:47:15): No more lameness for remaining XO for fifteen years. Too bad no one at Paramount listens to me because instead we just got the idiotic "last" fantasy episode on Enterprise.

space_pap (19:48:03): i'll put the shirt on your desk tomorrow. I hung it to dry and it hasn't dried yet.

swivelchair (19:50:00) has gone idle.

space_pap (19:52:00) has gone idle.

swivelchair (19:53:07): security told me you haven't left work since you came in tuesday. it's friday now.

swivelchair (19:55:27): mindy

swivelchair (19:57:15): answer your damn phone

swivelchair (19:58:00): answer your phone before I call security.

space_pap (20:03:14): What the hell? I was in the bathroom.

swivelchair (20:03:30): answer your phone. your cell's disconnected.

space_pap (20:03:56): Stop calling!

space_pap (20:04:21): Stop calling. Seriously. 

space_pap (20:04:31): I'm staying at the office until the crazies outside my door go away.

swivelchair (20:04:55): a towkr?

swivelchair (20:05:05): *at work?

space_pap (20:06:01): at home. Someone got my info and put it online. So now my email is full and my social media has been firebombed. Also I think I have to move. My neighbors are pissed. I'm pretty pissed too. :( 

space_pap (20:07:50): also getting new cell number tomorrow.

swivelchair (20:08:47): wait, are they bothering you at home?

swivelchair (20:08:55): ive got a spare bedroom.

space_pap (20:08:57): :( :( :(

space_pap (20:09:01): whoops! didn't see that second part. 

space_pap (20:10:29): Also :(

swivelchair (20:11:06): I'm coming to get you in fifteen minutes.

space_pap (20:11:56): NO! dont do that! 

space_pap (20:12:24): I have my car.

space_pap (20:13:02): Are you sure?

swivelchair (20:13:11): yes! stop waffling and come over.

swivelchair (20:13:55): also I want my shirt baclk. I ordered pizza. bacon okay?

space_pap (20:14:37): Give me a few minutes then. waiting to verify the injection orbits before i can log off. 

space_pap (20:14:59): why are you ordering shitty bacon when you can stick on your homemade stuff?

swivelchair (20:15:43): I looked up slash. I want to wipe this conversation from memory.

swivelchair (20:15:55): but you're still welcome to come over.

space_pap (20:18:01): so is this a good time to mention this crossover idea that I had in which Romanadvoratrelundar crash lands on Mars and takes on Mark as a companion? 

space_pap (20:18:32): imagine his log entries as he tries to work out the rules of non-human physics.

space_pap (20:18:51): TARDIS Day ???: My brain hurts.

space_pap (20:19:04): I still have a text file of Mark quotes from our last DW marathon. I could just stick them in verbatim!

swivelchair (20:19:29): ok thatw ould be awesome

swivelchair (20:19:37): write that one

space_pap (20:19:58): I know, right?!

space_pap (20:20:52): Oh hey it's done! Feed me seymour.

space_pap has logged off!

swivelchair has logged off!


	5. Chapter 5

To: Mindy Park, Supervisory Orbital Engineer, NASA-JSC  
From: Mark Watney, Chief of the Astronaut Office, NASA-JSC  
Date: Sunday, 9:26 AM  
Subject: Re: Moving help me Obi-Wan Kenobi!

So how many books have you accumulated since the last time we moved you?

PS you okay?

PPS your subject lines are getting worse

PPPS I got handed a binder full of illustrated (ILLUSTRATED) fanfic at the Berlin movie premiere. don't think I don't know already, park.

PPPPS Beth offered to take suggestive photos of Beck and me if you think that'll distract anyone.

\---

To: Mark Watney, Chief of the Astronaut Office, NASA-JSC  
From: Mindy Park, Supervisory Orbital Engineer, NASA-JSC  
Date: Sunday, 9:55 AM  
Subject: Re: Re: Moving help me Obi-Wan Kenobi!

In reverse order:

0\. It would break the Internet. Also Annie Montrose. Please do not break her. Also you did break my brain.

1\. Tell me you still have this miracle. They require mandatory dramatic readings.

2\. You mean they're getting _better_

3\. There's now an actual(!) police presence and mandatory mail screening after the five consecutive stinkbombs. My neighbors don't want to kill me anymore, I think?  
3.5. I can't find a new landlord that'll rent to me. Still hiding out at B's.  
3.75. We started dry-curing a ham. 

4\. You're in charge of getting water, picking pizza toppings and driving. Seriously, you're like a Rube Goldberg machine of disaster. Lift one book and the next thing I know B's house will have imploded through a series of unlikely but perfectly reasonable events.

mp

postscript: (1) Yes, security knows (2) Yes, I've got a meeting with PR tomorrow (3) It could be landlords **who'll** rent to me, but I don't feel like personifying corporations (4) :(

 

\---

To: Mindy Park, Supervisory Orbital Engineer, NASA-JSC  
From: Mark Watney, Chief of the Astronaut Office, NASA-JSC  
Date: Sunday, 12:14 PM  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Moving help me Obi-Wan Kenobi!

Is "dry-curing a ham" the new euphemism for geek foreplay? 

\---

To: Mark Watney, Chief of the Astronaut Office, NASA-JSC  
From: Mindy Park, Supervisory Orbital Engineer, NASA-JSC  
Date: Sunday, 3:47 PM  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Moving help me Obi-Wan Kenobi!

"Hey Johanssen, what do you say you, me and Beck go dry cure a ham together?"

"Oh Beck, your dry cured ham is the bestest!"

"My hobbies are walking on the beach, dry-curing hams and getting lost on Mars."

Nah.

mp

\---

To: Brendan Hutch, Ares Flight Director, NASA-JSC  
From: Mark Watney, Chief of the Astronaut Office, NASA-JSC  
Date: Sunday, 7:00 PM  
Subject: apartments?

MP's talking about apartment hunting? Weren't you going to ask her to move in?


	6. Chapter 6

In retrospect, she should have been more suspicious when Brendan ditched his customary lunch time slump over a commissary table to walk her to the PR people ("Media Relations office, Em. Annie likes precision as much as you do.") one building over. Seriously, that slump was a NASA institution, and not seeing him there was probably going to mess with the mental well-being of at least three day shift controllers.

However, given that she was too busy freaking out about (1) her eviction notice (2) the Houston PD finally taking her seriously and (3) not being able to stomach anything more exciting than oatmeal for the last two days, she completely blew past the warning signs and, upon seeing the unsmiling face of Annie Montrose in her deputy assistant associate peon's office chair, shrieked and flailed like a panicked squirrel.

Actually, to rewind a bit, she should probably freak out about (4) the inability to distinguish thought from reality and (5) an impending sinus infection. All she managed to do was to open her mouth, fail to locate any vowel noises to convey human meaning, and then to close said mouth. Human interaction in a non-technical setting was never an area in which she excelled.

For her part, Annie Montrose stared back impassively as Mindy wobbled into a seat. Word on the street--actually Venkat, Mitch Henderson and Brendan gossiping at the last Christmas party while vehemently denying that it was gossip--was that she had mellowed, but that didn't make the ambush less intimidating. In fact, she looked almost sympathetic as she pushed the computer screen over. "We've got a problem."

The only times she ever saw Annie Montrose in person after Ares 3 was while dropping f-bombs when chasing after Mark for something PR-related. This was...not good.

Then she realized that she was looking at all five (!) of her own police reports. "How did-why do you have these?"

"I did say _we've_ got a problem." Annie punched a few things into the keyboard, enlarging the semi-legible scribble on her third report about her wasting police resources with repeated repottings. "Turns out, if you hint at the PR shitstorm that I can whip up about allegations of police negligence, the Houston PD will call you a bitch and give you what you want. Have they told you that the white powder from your last police report wasn't anthrax? No?"

"All I did was dress up for Halloween," Mindy moaned, burying her hand in her face. "What in the fuck?!"

More clacking. "Aside from your report to Security, both the office of the Administrator and of the director of Johnson Space Center had already received a number of emails accusing you of gross misconduct. There have been," she hesitated, and Mindy may have whimpered in response, "a number of threats as well. Mostly repercussions against NASA if we let someone like you continue to work here. Please look up, Ms. Park, we're not holding you responsible. It was a provocative visual, but you didn't do anything wrong."

There were a number of things that she could have said, including offering to quit regardless of it being her fault. But she's only wanted to work for NASA since she was seven and had finally reconciled herself to living in effing Texas for the rest of her professional career, so she didn't. 

"It was supposed to be funny," she muttered. "Instead I'm getting typecast as either 'skanky Asian affirmative action hire who doesn't know her place' or 'skanky North Korean agent out to ruin 'Murca's shiny space toys'."

The last two weeks had been nerve-wracking, but Annie Montrose terrified her when the woman smiled with little bits of teeth showing. "The United States Government does not tolerate racism, sexism, or threats of bodily harm directed at its employees. Fortunately for you, the current administration will back up said lack of appreciation with criminal prosecution. While that's happening, what are you going to do?"

Continue hiding with Brendan? Continue lying to her mom that everything was fine? "I had planned on doing my job. Unless I don't have a job anymore?"

"I mean," the Director of Media Relations laced her hands together, looking...expectant? Was that it? "What are you going to do _besides_ hiding for the rest of your life from those assholes?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The NASA organizational chart as of October 2015 does not have a "Director of NASA" as used by the movie. The book uses the correct title, the Administrator of NASA, for Teddy Sanders. He is the President's chief space science advisor.


	7. Chapter 7

**2036**

There was a package at the door when Mindy got home. Really, it was the only reason that she was home at all. The recipient would usually have to be dead or dying for omma to be willing to ship some of their homemade _gochujang_ anywhere, let alone using  overnight service. 

Mark was sleeping, but she begged one of her office mates to keep an eye on the satellite telemetry while she made sure that no one stole her mail.

She dumped both her and Lo's go bag contents in the washer while the shower heated up, then fell asleep against the stall door until the water turned cold. While the dryer ran, she shoved as much replacement underwear as she could into each pack and made a note to take the good pillow when she left this time. 

Her roommate's last email contained no words longer than two syllables and also no punctuation. Three days ago, Lo had let slip that they may not finish Iris on time. 

With the dryer still running, she flipped on the television and scrolled past an infomercial, coverage of today's press conference with Annie Montrose, and two(!!) congregation praying for the soul of Brother Mark. The science fiction channel was playing a _Voyager_ episode that seemed vaguely familiar, so Mindy tossed the remote onto the couch and shoved some half-cooked ramyun into her mouth.

Fifteen seconds in, Mindy was pretty sure that heads were about to roll at the channel, because it was the one with a dead Mars astronaut in an Ares 4 command module. 

Sixty seconds in, Tom Paris said, "Two astronauts were stranded on the surface for weeks before a rescue ship arrived."

Mindy promptly started laughing.

She could hear herself make these high pitched hyena whoops. They were borderline hysterical and her abs hurted after a while, but her eyes were dry and that was okay. She had found Mark and was sleeping on a Martian cycle to keep up with him and Lolo hadn't been home in twenty days. Iris would take longer than projected and Mark might starve to death because of airlock failures and manufacturing delays even despite their doing their best. 

When she was eight, her brother decided that it would be a fantastic idea to tell her about the USS West Virginia. Japanese planes had sunk it at Pearl Harbor, but sixty-something sailors had survived in an air bubble below decks, three of them for at least 16 days. No one knew about them until repair workers found their bodies below deck months later. She had horrific nightmares for weeks and Andy had been grounded for even longer. 

She had been looking for Mark's body the first time and found him alive. This time she might see him die in real time. But that's okay, she had a four minute gap in satellite surveillance every forty-one hours, she might miss it.

When the laughing finally slowed down to occasional wheezes, Mindy turned off the television and got up to pull the pillow from her bed. She'll pick up some doughnuts for the office on her way back to work.


	8. Chapter 8

**2038**

The standard reconditioning program for returning astronauts was a forty-five day regimen designed to stress the body systems that affect aerobic capacity, muscular strength, power, endurance, and a bunch of other nouns that she didn't bother to remember. ASCR finally cleared the Ares 3 crew after ninety days, but Mark was still using a cane and hyperventilating at the thought of going outside without a helmet.

The head shrinking was working, though, because the window in his room was ajar. The blinds were down, but it smelled less like _eau d'isinfectant_ and more like the kebab cart two blocks away. Mindy thumped her elbow against the door as she entered, but no one was in the room. There were rustling noises from the bathroom, though, and the bathroom light was on. Both good signs.

"Yoko!" She called, falling onto the sofa. She toed her shoes off, then buried her feet under a cushion. She'll drive home barefoot. God, anything but those shoes.

"Ono." Flushing toilet, water swishes, paper towel dispenser. Door opened, and Mark strolled out with one of those airplane pillows around his neck. "Got your message. You okay now?"

With Ares 3 (and 4, went the scuttlebutt) finally over, she was back to being junior peon in the SatCon office with no immediate opportunities for advancement. Her email buddy at Goddard, though, had mentioned two internal openings in Maryland that matched her newly-acquired expertise in interpreting satellite telemetry. She'd stayed late to upload her CV (and then to retype all of the information on the CV into neat little boxes at USAJobs...ugh...), then found herself stranded ten feet out of her parking space when the transmission finally gave up the ghost.

"Yeah. Brendan Hutch lent me his car." She watched (only semi-anxiously) as he limped over to the other end of the sofa. Sitting action looked good and natural. "Good thing he was coming into work just then, otherwise you and I would have had to snuggle on Skype. You?"

"Physio sucked, I called my therapist names, he ignored me. The usual." He picked up a remote and peered at it nearsightedly, then casually added, "Going to try going outside again tomorrow."

She jolted upright. "Really?!"

Mark shrugged, then picked up the other one. "Window's been open for nearly a week without problems. Been dreaming about eating whatever we're smelling. "

"Doner kebabs," she said, fighting not to grin like an _absolute_ lunatic. Maybe just ninety-five percent of one. "Two dudes and a shitload of meat."

He grinned as well, "Is that a metric shitload or an imperial shitload, Park?"

She couldn't stop smiling, "Whatever. I could get some for dinner, or are you saving that for your bucket list?"

"Eh, TV first. _Voyager_ 's on."

They sat through a few commercials, including a trailer for a remake of _Kazaam_ , then the teaser started and the guest star was wearing a NASA costume. She suddenly had a horrible suspicion about the plotline. "Um, Mark?"

"Seen it before," He said, never taking his eyes off of the screen. "It'll be fine."

Sitting next to Mark also helped. She knew what was coming and alternated between watching Mark and watching Robert Beltran trying to emote. Mark snorted at the line about rescue ships taking weeks to get to Mars and then groaned a little when Seven of Nine acted like a petulant eight-year old about joining the away team.

It was a decent episode. The interpersonal tension was predictable, because _Seven of Nine_ , but someone had clearly paid attention to NASA engineering and the set design for the command module looked roomy but plausible. She couldn't figure out why the CGI exteriors used a chemical propellant booster design on what was supposed to be an ion engine, but then again it was fifty years ago...

Mark was crying. She wanted to look at him, but what smidgen of intuition she possessed shrieked at her to keep looking at the screen. Her eyes ached a little, trying to spy on him at the edge of her vision. Seven of Nine was pretending to have difficulty extracting a prop from a drawer while the guest star on screen raved about a whale. Light from the television made his tear tracks gleam in the dark room.

Then the astronaut said, "I never found out who won the World Series. I'm tired. And I can't..." and the log entries ended. Mark made a choked noise and buried his face in his hands.

She couldn't look at him. While the crew was getting rescued via technobabble, Mindy shifted her weight one butt cheek at a time across the couch until she was almost next to him. She wanted to pat his shoulder or even hug him, but they weren't that kind of friends.

When he had calmed down enough to just being snuffly, she reached for the tissue box and dropped it between their legs. Mindy stared hard at the TV until he had taken a few tissues and there were sounds of a nose being blown. She wondered if she should leave.

"I took geological samples along my entire route to Schiaparelli," Mark said, finally. "Left 'em in the rover."

Mindy nodded fervently, sneaking a peek at him, "Venkat asked for annotated imagery of everything at the Ares 4 site a while back. They'll go back for it."

He turned to look at her. His eyes were red and his face was blotchy, but he was also smiling a little and looking hopeful, "Think so?"

She met his eyes, smiling cautiously, "Geosciences would murder us all if we don't."

"Probably."

...

"Hey, Park?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm hungry."


	9. Chapter 9

**2043**

With no Ares missions currently in space, Brendan supervised a trainee in the ISS control room for three hours, then hid in his office to review the schematics proposal for Shackleton Base. Even with Ares 5 a success (mostly), a bargain-price Ares 6 ready to go and a wildly successful movie _about Mark_ still in select theaters, Congress seemed disinclined to authorize any more manned Mars missions until Mark's rock samples had been retrieved and "fully analyzed". All of the junior flight controllers were either updating their CVs or trying to sneak onto other funded projects. Meanwhile, he was trying to stay deaf to any hints that Venkat was emanating about promoting him out of the control room. Luckily, he didn't have to feign interest in lunar construction.

When he called down at shift change, one of her office mates said that Mindy had taken the rest of the day off. It wasn't surprising given that he had basically herded her into an ambush with Annie Montrose. Moral support and housing were easy, but he had to outsource for this type of professional expertise. In the meantime, he kept researching new ways to make oatmeal interesting.

Her hatchback was in the garage and her shoes were neatly lined up next to the door. The kitchen smelled like she had been baking. Then again, he wasn't sure what he should have expected given that she seemed more upset about invading his privacy than about being harassed by anonymous imbeciles who sent an armed SWAT team to her apartment. It made being in a relationship with her a bit challenging. 

He poked at a cooling lemon bar and the meringue came away in long sticky strands. That didn't look right.

"I added eggs to the wrong part of the recipe. Don't eat it."

"It still looks like I'd want to eat it," he said, looking her over. "Hi, how'd your meeting go?"

It was concerning that she wasn't even pretending to smile. "Meh."

In the end, he simply opened his arms and she walked into them. She was slightly too tall and had to hunch to fit comfortably, but she clung on and he rubbed her back.

"I don't know what I should do," Mindy said. She sounded exhausted. "What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

Brendan didn't know either, but he didn't say anything until she repeated the question. "Well, Em, what do you want to do?"

She pulled back sharply at this, "Seriously? Not helpful."

"I mean," he said, willing her to not storm off before he'd finished. "If you want to be free of this mess, then I'll update my CV and we'll go cure hams somewhere else more anonymous. I'd be just as happy if you decide to stay. Have your Uhura moment and live here with me. I'll build a guard shack for Annie on the front lawn to fend off the riffraff."

She stared at him. Belatedly it occurred to him that he let slip several topics of interest in his little speech. He sighed and ushered her to sit on the stairs, "From what I've gathered from Watney and the rest of my 'knitting circle', Annie nearly went nuclear when what's-his-name refused to cast anyone Asian in your role. The bad PR from that and the publicity that she can drum up about this will press the FBI into raining down vengeance on your harassers. But you'd probably have to go public for maximum impact, and she knows that it'll get worse before it gets better, so you'd have to agree to do it."

"So," Mindy said slowly, "When you say Uhura moment, you mean television role model for black women, not girlfriend of Spock."

"I mean one of the first professional black women on television. We wouldn't have Guinan without her, and you know that I think any episode with Guinan in it is a superior one." 

There was a crinkle between her eyebrows, "I'm not exactly one of the first professional Asian women in NASA. Or in STEM. Or, you know, anywhere."

"True, but you'd be one of the first to put the fear of god into a bunch of misogynistic racists with FBI prosecution. Then again, Annie can prod the FBI without you. What I'm really saying is, in this case, you don't _have_ to do anything. You just need to decide what you _want_ to do, short of rewinding time. We'll make our plans based on what you decide."

"Which apparently includes a ham curing operation in an undisclosed location."

He could feel himself growing hot around the ears. "Including that."

"Hmm." She didn't say anything else as she leaned into him and closed her eyes, but she was smiling again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found part of this rather upsetting to write. You may find it upsetting to read.

**2024**

Her parents had given her some advice when Min-ji first started school. She was five at the time, so it took a while for her to understand what they were talking about. Their wisdom consisted of the following: (1) study hard, (2) we don't know anything about education in this country, and our jobs keep us so busy that we can't help, so if your brother doesn't know, you're on your own, and (3) ignore the bullies and they'll go away. 

After Andy died and they had moved to South Carolina, it more or less morphed into (1) study hard, (2) we have no idea what you're studying, so even if we could unstick ourselves from our grief to pay attention to you, we can't help, (3) ignore the bullies and they'll go away, and (4). (4) was like Fight Club, and like Fight Club, they didn't talk about (4). 

In between unpacking the house, taking care of her mom, and packing her dad off for his next scientific expedition, it took Min-ji three weeks to notice that her new high school didn't know what to make of her. The only other Korean student was the son of the local "Chinese" restauranteur and was primarily known for his flashy car and his generosity with his dad's liquor cabinet. He avoided eye contact with her whenever they were in the same room. He had his place and she didn't have one yet.

While the ideal situation would have been to behave herself and just be the ethnic paragon, what actually happened veered off script, slightly.

Her old high school didn't have homeroom, and her new homeroom teacher was a firm believer in promoting peace and harmony among psychotic adolescent brains that alternately wanted to make out with or to slaughter each other. Being that she was New and Foreign, it mostly meant a lot of being talked at as if she were a deaf toddler. 

Also the grimacing whenever her name came up. Min-ji, Mindy with a j. What was so hard about that?

Anyway, the icebreaker that day was careers. There were a slew of bankers, doctors, one physiotherapist, then Min-ji said that she wanted to be an engineer for NASA. She went back to reading the pamphlet on applying to Governor's School once the social ordeal was over. Her parents were clingy, but they were reasonable. Or at least they would be once she'd primed them appropriately about the educational inadequacies of _this_ school.

When the homeroom teacher was summoned out by the office, the guy seated two rows over pointed at her. She thought he looked familiar from her chemistry class, but they weren't exactly friendly, or had ever spoken to each other. Had occasion to share the same air, but that was it.

"Go back to China."

Her old high school was majority Asian, and anyone who dared to say that would have found himself shoved into a locker after class. She stifled her natural inclination, which was to point out that she had been born in Los Angeles. Instead she flipped to the section on academic prerequisites for applying. 

He was kind of a hypocrite, come to think of it, because there were pictures of him getting drunk with Lee all over SnapChat.

"Ching ching chong chong," he sing-songed in a fake Chinese accent, obviously enjoying himself, "The only thing you do is test well, and your slanty eyes are just taking spots from other people for Governor's School. Actual Americans who deserve a spot. You're a freak and you should go home with your Chinese freak family and wait for NASA to bomb your asses."

When she first started school, Andy would hold her hand as they rode the bus together. There were a couple of guys in the back who made animal noises at them. The bus driver didn't intervene as long as no profanities were involved. They got some sandwiches pieces thrown at them in the beginning. Also an apple core, a few times. 

Min-ji used to think that her brother was the best for sitting with his kid sister even when he was so much older and cooler. In hindsight, he might have never had anyone else to sit with.

Ignore them, he would whisper in Korean, they'll stop eventually. But they never did. 

Min-ji found herself standing. Her thickest textbook was in her hands, and it was just eight easy steps to his desk.

"Hey asshole, I'm Korean," she said, as she brought the Chemistry book down on his head.

The sound of the cracking book cover reverberated through the silent room. The book was at least 1200 pages and underneath it was her bully, his face red and his eyes tearing up. He was obviously in pain, but to his credit, he didn't make a sound. She pondered the merits of hitting him again.

Then she turned around and there was her homeroom teacher with the principal, both gaping at her.

She got suspended for it.

But he did too. (And he never spoke to her, or stood within arm's reach, ever again.)

And it made for a kickass admissions essay.


End file.
